Fiendish Drapery, A Study of You, Gangrel Were Awesome, Dark Sorcery Indeed, and St. Augustine Would Be Proud…

You can find the ever-growing list of “Better Than Nothing” items  over on the right. Read ‘em, like ‘em, share ‘em, and comment.

Blisterkrau Shroud

“I do not love you, Quix. I don’t even hate you. I regard you in the same way I regard the paper on which I scribble my careful messages or the base metal I forge into something of use. You’re mortal, which means you’re one of millions times millions of pestilential, short-lived things in this world and all others that I may use for a larger purpose.

“Should I tell you my purpose? Again? I’ve told you before, of course. Your mind cannot hold its grandeur and naturally burns itself free of the knowledge each time. You used to speak clearly, that stutter is a sign you’re slipping more. Your soul cannot handle the burden of my majesty. But, because it makes me laugh and happy, I’ll tell you again.

“Sshhhhh, careful boy, shhhh. No crying yet. I haven’t even started. You’ll need to steel yourself, you always scream at the end…”

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Skinning a Godling, a Guide to Living Forever, the General Takes the Field, I’ve Been Reading a Lot of “Fables”, and Dirty Old Men…

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The Cray of the Dead God

Teller started the careful process of wrapping the long strap of boaxhide around her midsection. Around, then over, then around, then over–the motions were familiar to her, as common as brushing her hair out of her eyes. The rest of her comrades were tired, they’d spent the night in fitful watches, waiting for hell to climb the hill.

The lower encampment was, if anything, larger than the last one—and that had nearly killed them all. Soldiers, pink-faced and ready, were lined up to storm the earthy mound and give them all a death long in the coming. But, without worry and almost without care, Teller continued the ritual, taking her time and doing it right, wrapping herself in the protection of her clan and family and preparing herself for the blood to come.

If the emperor wanted this hill, she’d make his very best bleed for it.

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Study Hard, Mr Gorbechov Build Up That Wall, and There Aren’t Enough Nice Clothes…

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Laffetr’s Pince-Nez

“He’s over there…” Sabya called out, pointing with his larian-made sword toward the outcroppings overlooking the long valley. His comrades tensed. They did not like this place, nor did they like the things that crept and hid in the shadows around it.

While they made their way down the gully and watched the sun fade behind the peaks of the far end of the lost and lonely stretch, they gripped the leather-wrapped handles and noched their arrows and glanced nervously left and right and up and down—waiting for the ambush they knew would come.

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Casting Conflict: Fighting It Out Over Arcane Traditions

The default assumption of many fantasy game settings is that the magical study wizards devote themselves to is rewarded by the slow – but constant – accumulation of knowledge and power. The fact that this knowledge takes the form of spells that may come from various different ancient masters, widespread cultures, or deep secrets of the universe doesn’t seem to matter very much in the grand scheme of things.

But what if the mental disciplines and understandings necessary to use certain Schools of Magic didn’t just translate over to all of the others? What if those secrets were closely guarded, or required guidance from someone who has already mastered them?

What if unlocking that knowledge was something a character had to fight for?

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Unwords, Forever Changing, and Where Legends Come From…

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Voca Caparison

Mad Hanz stared at the goblet—finewiss crystal cupped at the base by a twisting silver stem. The cup was worth more than the entirety of Hanz’s earthly possessions. Even serving him a drink with it, as tattered and unkempt as he usually appeared, was an extraordinary act of either inattention or manipulation.

Given that the Duke was not known for foolish or careless error, Mad Hanz figured it was the latter.

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It’s Not Cursed, Master of Shovel-Fu, and Twin Sisters…

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Accursed Ring of Krin the Arcane

As the earth came pouring and tumbling down–a dark, earthly flood of soil and stone and mud and sand–Belinda recited the half-remembered parable of the day the Earth Spider riddled to the wandering man about the nature of what is beautiful.

The dark was moist and warm, the cavern rumbling and grumbling its collapse. She felt the pressure around her–at first an embrace, now a seamless prison–and felt her body grow distant and cool. The sensation was like sleeping in a room where the fire went out–ever colder, but subtle and slow, until the dry, chilly feeling was deep in her flesh.

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More Than One Way To Die, Lich-ish, and Don’t Look Down…

You can find the ever-growing list of “Better Than Nothing” items  over on the right. Read ’em, like ’em, share ’em, and comment.

Shudderwein

How do you kill a god?

Teller didn’t know. She’d killed giants and monsters and horrors, she’d killed the Great Black Bear and the Creeping Death of the Irewood. But, standing before this creature, his wings gloriously spread in an almost peacock-like fasion, perfectly made and without a hair or blemish or sign that he’d ever stepped foot into the world of real things… she was cowed.

Even if only for a moment.

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